


nights like this

by loewen_grube



Category: Paladins: Champions Of The Realm (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, It's an assorted dump;;, These are either old fics I haven't posted anywhere else or just stuff I've written recently!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loewen_grube/pseuds/loewen_grube
Summary: assorted ash/tyra drabbles.





	1. drink

“Another!”

Ash has to wave off the waiter that arrived to give Tyra the drink she had requested. She has had two bottles of the damn thing already and she can barely form words, and she looks like she’s about to hurl. Right now, Tyra is just looking at her with droopy eyes and smiling from ear to ear.

“If you have a problem, you can talk about it with me, you know.” Ash has had a few drinks herself, but she’s rather sure she’s not as smashed as the huntress is. The war machine was rather certain she can actually handle her liquor, but it may seem Tyra has gone past her incredibly high limit and has found her struggling to even stand up the chair to move seats in the booth.

Feeling rather comfortable in her seat beside Ash in the booth, Tyra takes her time to stare at the glass of water she was handed.

“No… no problem.” She pauses, like she’s taking her time with words, before her hazy vision focuses on Ash. Tyra smiles widely at her, and the war machine can feel her heart skip a beat.

And then Tyra burst into tears.

Ash was confused for a second, being rather drunk herself, but after she’s gathered her thoughts and has figured out what is happening, she is quick to pull Tyra close to comfort her.

“Hey, hey hey hey.” Ash pulls her close, hands firm and comforting around Tyra as she cries. “Hey, what’s wrong? Is everything okay? Damn you… I told you that you can tell me your problems, right?” She’s not too sure on what she is saying, but the haze does not stop her from voicing out her concern.

Tyra almost looks like she couldn’t say much as eyes focus and train on Ash, breathing warmly against her .“You’re… you’re... you’re _just so gorgeous!”_ She wails and buries her face on Ash’s shoulder, sobbing softly and still muttering praises to the war machine.

Warmth creeps on Ash’s cheeks as she slowly processed what Tyra said, keeping her close and wrapping her arms around the huntress. It almost feels wrong, keeping her close. But Tyra’s clinging like mad and would not let go even if Ash tried. “Uh…” she stammers, unsure what to say. She awkwardly pats her shoulder. “I’m sorry…?”

Eventually, Tyra’s embrace loosened, and she has fallen fast asleep, awkwardly curled in the booth, head rested on Ash’s lap.

Ash can’t stop herself from smiling.


	2. dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an unused version of the dream from [carved in ice](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099644/chapters/29969466), which is less dream-like and more like a bad memory. drafting the final chapter of the fic, its likely i won't be able to use this, so i might as well post it here.

Cold.

It’s cold.

The bite of snow still reaches her skin even through five layers of clothing, and Ash’s hands are numb, and everything around her is static. She couldn’t hear anything that is happening around her, and as much as she can understand, war is raging around her but she is powerless to any of its accompanying evils except what was in front of her. 

As her mind digs through the mental haze, she makes out something—no, _someone_ in her arms, and she chokes, breathes. She tries to speak, but her voice is croaky, and hauntingly, horrifyingly familiar. She struggles to form words. Ash can feel tears spilling down her face, even though she is still struggling to put a face on such a familiar voice.

_For what? What am I crying about?_

“Do… you remember the… the little springs we have found?” The voice was weak, pained, her hand holding onto Ash for stability. The war machine can feel her smile in nostalgia. “The springs… you… we don’t want to return to this, and yet…”

“No, don’t fucking say that—“ Ash lifts her off the ground, in an attempt to bring her somewhere safer, with all the arrows still lodged in the chinks of her armor and buried in her skin, but as she runs further away from her perceived chaos, the sensation of anxiety fills her lungs and pumps her with dread, as she realizes that everything around her is hell,  and no one is safe. “We can still save you, please don’t say that—“

“We--we could have just stayed in the spring… avoided all this.” She pauses, weakly trying to tuck Ash’s hair aside.  “Spend some more time… maybe things would have been… different…”

“You are _not_ doing this…” Ash’s voice is filled with so much false resolve that she has convinced herself that it is real, but all it manages to do is fill her further with dread as the sight of her dying in her arms, smiling weakly, arms held limp against her.

“I’ve always prayed to the gods that we… we should be happy in a different universe, right?” She smiles, but Ash can tell her voice is weakening, that her grip on reality is fading, and in any time she will cease to be. Ash is too lost in the chaos around her to comprehend why or how she is feeling like this. “That somewhere else, there’s a… version of us not suffering…?”

“There is, there is—“ Ash smiles weakly. “We will return to that spring. Someday, we will, Tyra--”

The grip against her loosens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case you weren't able to tell, this is a jab at dire wolf tyra's cave line. i hate it. :'D


	3. reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a first kiss prompt for paladinsheadcanons.

Reunions were supposed to be sweet.

Seeing Tyra again after years alone was a relief. After the Sentinels, Ash had no way of knowing if she was fine, and Tyra made sure that no one in the Magistrate knew where she is headed or where her home is in the far reaches of the Realm. She had tried to at least follow her, or find out where she has situated herself, in the guise of the usefulness of the knowledge of it. But nothing really came up… until now.

Ash, however, did not really envision them seeing each other in the middle of another fight. She is not sure what she is doing here, even. She looks so… different from the last time she has seen her, her confidence seeping out of every pore like she is the very bear that refuses to become prey, brandishing her kill over her shoulders and taking more selfless, bolder strikes to their direction.

She did not think she would see her again in the other side of the battle, on a mighty steed and ready to attack. Tyra takes a good long look around the battlefield, and locked eyes with Ash for a split second, before pulling the reins of her horse and diving straight into the thick of the forest, away from the clearing and the fight.

She hears one of her sergeants scream for Tyra and exclaims that they will follow her into the thick to kill the “traitor” before she gets to the safehouse. The thought alone twists her guts up in a knot, and she impulsively stops the sergeant in their tracks

“No,” she exclaims, stepping forward to stop them. She contemplates for a split second the rationality of her decision, but it is far too late for that. “I’ll do that.”

“But ma’am, the traitor—”

“You heard me.” The war machine steps forward, almost scaring the sergeant to relent. She gathers her own steed as well, and pushes straight into where she saw Tyra dive in.

She does not know her purpose right now – why she’s here, why she’s doing this, and if somehow the huntress has found herself embroiled once more in the civil war Ash has thought she’d left the Magistrate to avoid. There were not much parting words, not much farewell when she had left; only the fact that there were several things unanswered.

As the forest thickens, the trees and their shade darkening the golden light of the afternoon, she seems to have lost the sight of her, but she can hear her rather clearly, the horse’s loud, quick pace giving her away. Her first instinct is to shoot where she’s coming from, to take down her mane at least, but she stops, remembering that to kill is not her intention. In the few seconds the sounds near and louden, she thinks up of something quick.

Checking the state of her cannon, Ash fires a warning shot by Tyra’s path. She could not see much with the dirt and soil it sent flying everywhere… but judging from the horse and the vague silhouette she can make out of her pulling in the reins, it seems successful with at least stopping her in her tracks.

As the dust settles, Tyra turns up and looks, struggling to keep her mane in one place. Surprise is quickly written all over her face as she sees Ash, and for a few moments she does not do anything as Ash takes her time going down her steed.

And then both hands fly to her rifle and its barrel trained straight at the war machine.

Ash doesn’t flinch. But she does not stay silent, either.

“You’re back.”

Tyra seems taken aback by how unaggressive Ash sounds, but her rifle remains trained at the war machine, wary. “Drop your weapon.”

She does so without question, chucking the heavy cannon at Tyra’s feet, kicking it closer to the huntress. “You done now?”

“I’m going through.” Tyra’s voice is somewhat hoarse, her accent slightly thicker than Ash remembers it. The gun lowers slightly, but she moves a little past her with the gun still trained at her and keeping a close eye. “I need you to  _not_ move and let me go to where I’m supposed to go.”

Ash raises her hands in part-defeat. “I’m not here to stop you.”

“Bullshit.” She slaps in a new magazine in her rifle, making sure the one she had on was full. “Let me go where I need to go and maybe I’ll believe you.”

“Can’t we talk for now?”

Tyra seems to chuckle. “What for? There’s nothing to talk about.”

“What, you just expect me to accept you’re back after five years and now I have to kill you? Are you nuts? What kind of idiot leaves without saying anything–”

“Ugh, I don’t have time for this!” Tyra pushes past the war machine – with surprising force and lack of restraint. “If you’re not going to do your damn job, then I’ll just go ahead.”

“Will you talk to me if I swear to you I will see it upon myself to destroy the safehouse and set the hostages free?”

Tyra’s eyes narrow in skepticism as she turns around. “And why would I trust you?”

“You know me.” Ash offers a hand. “Do you think I would make a promise I can’t keep?”

The huntress just ignores it. “Five years will do lots to a person, Ash. I don’t buy your crap.”

“Well, you’ll just have to believe me, because I am not letting you pass and I am in control here.” Ash ignores the gun pointed at her and establishes herself right in front of the direction Tyra is supposed to go. “You just have to trust me.”

“Yes, it is very much like you to take control of shit you’re not supposed to.”

“I picked it up from you.”

“Don’t be foolish. Do you think it’s my choice to be back? I’m not here because I wanted to.” Tyra seems to try to intimidate her, as she lowers her rifle and walks up to Ash, seeing her eye to eye like how one would prey before talking them on. “Seeing you and all this past shit with you and the Sentinels is shitty, but I will do what I need to—"

“No, you left, and you did not tell the other Sentinels, not even  _me_  where you’re going—"

“You’re not the  _only_  reason I left, you  _walnut,_  the Sentinels and the mission was the main reason and you better stop feeling like you had any major role in my li— _ASH!”_

Tackling Tyra was ridiculously easy. Compared to her, she was small, and as she swats her rifle out of her hands and pins down her wrists, she could see Tyra’s eyes widen, and for a second, she does not move nor struggle. Was it fear, surprise on her face…? Good! Ash inches closer, shifting her weight to give Tyra a little more freedom, but makes it clear she would not let go any second.

“I’d be angry on how you’re the one who’s being annoyed about leaving,” Ash grumbled. Tyra swallows in nervousness and has given up on struggling against Ash’s weight altogether but listens intently. “But I missed you… and you’re here now. And you can’t tell me how to feel after not seeing you for years. Can you just tell me the  _other_ reasons why?”

Realization seems to sink down Tyra’s face, and she avoids Ash’s gaze for a second, assessing how the war machine has her pinned down. She looks up at Ash, fear softening to confusion, looking like she is not sure what to say first. In the end, she gives up, sighing as she tries to relax.

“I just…” Tyra stumbles with her words a little, unsure how to articulate her thoughts. She sees like she didn’t want to speak, but felt like she needed to, given the situation. “I didn’t know.”

Ash swallows, avoiding the gaze as well as the odd guilt years back. “It was not appropriate at the time.”

“It would have been better.”

“I know.” Ash sighs. “I know, but… the circumstances weren’t right.”

She reaches out to Ash, hands by her cheek. She wordlessly caresses, but she doesn’t do anything, seemingly hesitant. “I’m sorry I made you think that way. I was not as vocal either.”

“Five years.” The war machine sounds almost betrayed, but Tyra knows there’s more to it. “Five years and you didn’t contact me or say anything?”

“There’s a lot in the line.” Tyra’s voice is soft, gentle. Her hands cradle against Ash’s cheek, still hesitant, hands freezing by her neck. “My feelings are not important.”

“Maybe you should love yourself as much as I love you, then.” Slowly, Ash closes the distance, noses brushing as she tries to acquaint herself with the feeling, until strong hands situates themselves by the nape of her neck to meet their lips. Tyra is not letting go of her any soon, and she keeps her grip of her tight, establishing her presence as she breathes against her and she feels her warmth.

The innocent enthusiasm sinks in, the small realization that this is the first bout of physical affection they have expressed for each other, and Ash tries to control her pacing, descending slightly to bite her lower lip softly, trying to take the pace to her own, eliciting a breath from the huntress. She could still feel Tyra’s hands by her nape and cradling her, but they seem to just hover there, not forcing or pushing.

Noses brush against each other as Tyra adjusts her angle, parting slightly, foreheads touching. Slowly, she smiles. She doesn’t push, and half-lidded eyes admire the woman before her. A part of Ash wishes she can somehow live this a little longer.

“You know,” Tyra starts, softly and barely audible. “This is a good day to start as any.”

Ash dips down for a quick kiss once more, before she gets her weight off her, somehow mournful of parting the distance. She is not certain what to say. She is happy, definitely; however the realization sinks in that it is not something she can really come to terms with. She does have to keep her distance. She is an enemy in the Magistrate’s eyes, now that they know she is in the Resistance.

“What’s wrong?”

“I—”

Ash is interrupted by the sound of cannons and marching men coming up in the edge of the thick.

It’s her platoon. She hears the chatter. They think she’s taking too long.

Adrenaline rushes in as the situation and its gravity comes full force. Tyra stands up, picks up her rifle, Straightens her hair. She wordlessly gets up on her steed.

But she looks down at Ash, and her war face softens to a smile.

Ash stands up herself, and she finally gets out her concern. “I don’t know if I’ll see you again.”

“I’ll find a way.” A cannon shot nearby. They’ve seen Tyra from the distance, but they haven’t seen Ash yet from the thick of the shrubbery. “It would take a while, but I promise—”

The battle cries disturbed her, and before Ash knew it, she is gone, the past moments nothing but a memory.  

* * *

 

Ash had lied so many times in the weeks that came – on the safehouse and why it is suddenly rubble with its hostages disappeared into the night, and what has happened to Tyra after she attempted to stop her.

“She got away,” she said. “She’s now a very formidable threat, but we don’t know where she is right now.” She made sure they would believe her. The self-inflicted injuries were easy to make but will heal in a while. And she made sure they will believe there is no way they are still friends. She took on the small penalty. But it is fine. She will bear it. A part of her is giddy with somewhat childish excitement. The risk is exciting, however it also brings her shivers up her spine at the mere thought of somehow missing a detail. She could not risk making mistakes. Not for her. She chose to live through the lie to catch up on the five years they could have been happy.

However, it has been a while, and she has not heard from Tyra ever since the attack, except from scattered news and rumors from her platoon. As the days and weeks pass, she fears it may be too good to be true, that she may have just dreamed the kiss, that Tyra wasn’t real and she just imagined the encounter to make herself feel better about her own feelings.

However, while she writes her report, she received an anonymous letter. All it had on was a date and time set by the fortnight, and the name of an inn way outside Magistrate territory with a designated room number. “Just one night,” it adds.

She has not packed her essentials faster before. Filing for vacation is easy. She says she is visiting distant family she has not seen for a while, which has a vein of truth to it. Tyra is family. Tyra is a lot of things. She’s not someone she’s happy to only be seeing occasionally, but it is a better option than most. She was out of the capital before she knew it, and in the designated date, was in front of the designated inn number.

The chance is still one she was happy to take, and if it is any consolation to the risk, this reunion maybe a little easier and more fun to remember.

She knocks by the door, and she is guiltily excited as she hears familiar footsteps come to answer.


End file.
